A Fifth Season is a place of pause to grieve the death of my first and only child. A season characterized by reflection on the big stuff and the little stuff that this mom encounters as I parent the memory of my child, and my child, in loving return, parents my heart.

What is "A Fifth Season"?

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Losing Some Sensitivity---FINALLY

I held another baby today, a baby girl. I cooed and bounced and chatted and removed sharp objects, and all was well.

I listened to two seasoned mothers chat about motherhood and raising children. I listened and offered no comments and felt no tears, just a slight painful tug.

So, I think it means that I've lost some of my sensitivity. And that's fine with me. I need some respite from possible "holding a baby" and "mommy talk" events to derail my equilibrium.

FINALLY. And it's OK. I still thought about Caitlin, but mostly felt me loving and missing her, and knowing she's gone and that these events just "are what they are." Other people's stories that I happen upon.

9 comments:

I held a one year old baby boy on the weekend. It was not my intention, but he put his arms up and came running towards me. I couldn't very well run in the other direction. I too sat in the room as two mothers held a conversation about breasts and baby Tupperware items - the same items my cupboards are full of, just not used yet. I gazed out the window, and had a silent "why me" moment, but just carried on with the day.

Such tough things to do, though people around you may not notice. Glad you came through both of these events OK and feel like you are making some progress. (I'm having trouble with that last sentence. I think you sound relieved that you are losing some sensitivity, and I'm glad for you for that. I don't mean to imply that you should be "making progress," or moving on.

Sara, Thanks for the supportive comment. I'm sorry one of my statements was troubling for you.

It is how I feel sometimes. I feel relieved that not every emotion is at the surface. I feel relieved that when I sit with "normals" and I am not drowning in grief during every moment. So, I think your assessment that I'm relieved that I'm losing some sensitivity is correct. I don't see it as a sign of moving on, though, but rather moving through and being able to make distinctions of when it's about me and grieving my daughter's death and when it's about other people, mothers and their babies. (((hugs))) to you. Peace.

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Live the Questions Now

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves. Do not now seek the answers which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now....—Rainer Maria Rilke

Pure Silence (Rumi)

I have come this timeto burn my thorns,to purify my life,to take up service againin the garden

I come weeping to these watersto rise free of passion and belief

Look at my face. These tearsare traces of you.

From "Thoughts Matter"

When tears come, I breathe deeply and rest.I know I am in a hallowed stream,where many have gone before.I am not alone, crazy or having a nervous breakdown.My heart is at work.My soul is awake.

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Words of Comfort & Hope

"See I am sending an angel ahead of you to guard you along the way and to bring you to the place I have prepared." (Exodus 23:20)

~Marcel Proust

There is no more ridiculous custom than the one that makes you express sympathy once and for all on a given day to a person whose sorrow will endure as long as his life. Such grief, felt in such a way is always present; it is never too late to talk about it, never repetitious to mention it again.